


Bullets and Backup

by hitchcock_winter



Category: Emergency! (TV 1972)
Genre: Alternate Ending, And Johnny's there to save him, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bromance, Cross-posted, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Nagging Suspicion, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Roy's having a tough time, but i don't think so, episode alternate ending, maybe a bit ooc, super soft gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitchcock_winter/pseuds/hitchcock_winter
Summary: Roy needed the daylight and he had no idea how to get there. He needed an anchor, something to hold him there at the station and nothing was more sure than Johnny’s voice.  Tag/alt ending to Nagging Suspicion.
Relationships: Roy DeSoto & Johnny Gage
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Bullets and Backup

**Author's Note:**

> Technically a tag/alt ending to Nagging Suspicion, but can probably be read as a standalone. There is a brief, vague mention of something gory. Deals with PTSD, but nothing graphic. Be sure to check out the tags and enjoy! Oh, and as usual, many thanks to Guardy/Johnny's Green Pen on Tumblr. You're the best.

The fire caused by the smoke bomb was hot, and spread rapidly due to the wood build of the structure, but was mostly contained to a small enough area that the extra alarm Cap had called in was able to put it out quickly. In firefighter terms, anyway.

Though the sniper was immediately apprehended, Johnny and Roy gave him a once-over and convinced the police to take him to the hospital for smoke inhalation. 

Roy wasn’t entirely sure if he was glad Johnny went with the sniper victim to the hospital, or if he wished it were him instead. In fact, he wasn’t sure how he felt at all. After slapping the back of the ambulance, he turned in a circle, a little disoriented. 

He was unsettled. Like he’d lost something, like he was on the verge of a turbulent swell just on the edge of his consciousness. Something was returning to him, something far better buried.

His helmet. Where was it? Roy ignored the trembling that was building and reluctantly made his way back to where he and Johnny had been helping the injured police officer after pulling him from the line of fire. Sure enough, his helmet was there, coated in dust from where bullets had spit up dirt and showered it back to the ground.

Roy lowered a shaking hand to pick up the helmet, barely recognizing the low sound of his own groan as he did so. He lifted it and stared at its glossy black plastic.

It was then that Roy remembered being pressed up against the squad car, remembered crawling around Johnny while smoke choked the air and a hail of bullets rained around him.

And was assaulted with the memory of being pressed up against tetrameles trees, crawling through thick bushes while stifling humidity choked the air and a hail of bullets rained around him. 

He startled when a police officer came up to him. The officer was saying something, and Roy forced a smile and nodded, but it was all he could do to keep other sounds at bay, other noises creeping in on him from the edges of his mind. 

He suddenly really needed to get to the hospital and find his partner. He desperately needed to not be alone.

* * *

_There was lush forest green, and there was bright crimson red, and those were the only two colours that existed, the only two sights that spun around him in everlasting fashion. The jungle was hot, it was stifling, and if he could have felt anything other than the ringing in his ears he would have felt the multitude of bug bites that jabbed at his sunburned skin. But he couldn’t feel anything, he was walking through a thick bubble of moisture and sprays of blood and the sounds of bullets hitting the bark right behind his head._

_Suddenly a form was on the ground in front of him, not a person, per se, because a person had two arms and two legs and the form did not have all of that, did not meet the calculus of what he knew was needed to complete a whole human, and the form was screaming._

“Roy?”

A soft voice broke through the horrific sound and Roy’s eyes shot open wide, his heart jumping in between the throes of puddling blood and wakefulness. His breath heaved in and out in gasps, and he was vaguely aware that he was stomach-first in a bed, not stomach-first on the moist soil of a Vietnamese jungle, his hands grasping the sheets at his sides in his fists. 

His eyes flitted around the space beside him, trying to make sense of the darkness that blanketed his shaking body, searching desperately for the form that had followed him home years ago and hoping not to find it. He realized with a start that Johnny’s face was there, not more than a few inches from his.

“J-Johnny?” If he wasn’t so terrified he would have been ashamed of the way his voice squeaked pathetically past his lips.

“I’m right here, Roy,” Johnny whispered back.

A semblance of reason broke through the screeching in Roy’s brain. They were at the station. It was night, and he had been sleeping, and he was a firefighter and this was L.A. and there were no Viet Cong here, was no living corpse that he’d never save. At least, this was what he was trying to convince himself – his heart and his consciousness had not caught up.

“Are you okay?” Concern had Johnny’s eyebrows pinched together, and his dark eyes glowed in the nondescript light of the metropolitan night, searching Roy for the truth.

Roy didn’t think he could lie if he tried. “N-no.”

Johnny was kneeling on the floor in front of Roy’s bunk, and just now Roy realized he could feel his partner’s hand on his back, thumb moving back and forth in a slow, purposeful motion. Johnny nibbled on his bottom lip, and Roy could tell that he was shaken.

Johnny was a deep sleeper, never to be woken save for the klaxons or the morning alarm. Or apparently, for a partner falling apart in his sleep.

“Did… do you wanna maybe get up for a bit?” Johnny whispered.

Roy’s glance fell from Johnny and hovered somewhere in the dark surrounding Johnny’s bed. “I-I don’t think… I can move right now.” This time he felt the shame at the sound of his words.

Johnny was unphased by the admission, but he did look around helplessly. Part of Roy wanted to tell him to go back to bed, that this wouldn’t last, that he’d been here before.

But the other part of him, the one that was terrified and that he usually had restrained in the ether deep down inside, wanted Johnny to save him.

“How can I help?” Johnny asked softly.

Roy shut his eyes against the tears that started to stream, but there was a jungle and shouting and the smell of gunpowder there, so he opened them again. “I-I don’t know,” he croaked, his voice shaking with his body. 

Without realizing it, he had painstakingly unclenched the sheet and reached out to Johnny. Johnny caught his hand in his own and clasped it tightly, as if Roy was slipping off the side of a cliff, as if Johnny was his only lifeline.

He thought he was past the night terrors. He hadn’t had one in years, and definitely never at the station. And Joanne was always right there for him to bury his face into and to squeeze, to press away the cruel, echoing memories with warmth and soft flesh and the almost-certainty that it was over, that he’d never have to go back.

He wanted to wish he hadn’t woken Johnny up, but he selfishly didn’t. The need for his friend was visceral, was the only thing stronger than the pull of his nightmare.

Johnny straightened a little, peering over the wall by Roy’s bed, and Roy thought he was making sure the other guys were still sound asleep. Roy listened too, the best he could over the other sounds that Johnny couldn’t hear. After a moment of snuffling and snores, it seemed as if they were the only ones awake. 

At least Roy hadn’t been screaming in his sleep.

Johnny crouched back down and Roy could feel him study him, could feel him trying to figure out what to do, trying to solve this undoubtedly broken Roy DeSoto stuck to the bed and clinging to his hand. Just like Johnny always tried to solve Roy’s problems, tried to talk through the solutions and fix them with hare-brained ideas and phone calls and literally anything he could think of, really, because Johnny couldn’t stand to see Roy hurt. He’d never said it, and Roy wasn’t sure why his partner was so passionately adverse to seeing Roy out of sorts, but Roy knew, just like he knew he’d always put his own life on the line to pick Johnny up and out of the trouble that invariably followed him.

Finally, after what seemed like long and hard deliberation, Johnny whispered, “Didja want me to… would it help at all… uh, want me to climb in?”

If it was any other time, it would have been the strangest thing to ask. And Roy’d never have a reason to say yes. But this wasn’t any other time. And Roy didn’t hesitate to nod. 

In the day Johnny was graceful and agile and lithe as a stray cat and even now, with the lights off and in the choking thick of the evening, he was deft and silent as he moved between Roy and the brick partition. He made his way under the covers, helping Roy maneuver so that they were facing out and Roy’s back was tucked securely against Johnny’s chest.

Johnny’s arm snaked around Roy and held him tight, and suddenly it felt as if Roy could maybe make it through the night.

“Is this okay?” Johnny whispered into Roy’s neck, and all Roy could do was nod, because he was so overwhelmed, overwhelmed by the shadows that still marched and spat in the corners of his vision, and overwhelmed by how grateful he was for the human being curled up against him. He knew Johnny to be kind, to be selfless, to be there for Roy through thick and thin and the darkest of bad rescues and the frustration of minor domestic spats but this, this was something beyond all that.

“You… ya wanna talk about it?”

Roy never talked about it. Not to his family, not to his wife. Not to the psychiatrists at the VA that everyone seemed so anxious to get him in front of after he first got home. But something about this very moment, about the warm safety he felt beneath Johnny’s slender arm, had him thinking that maybe he could talk to Johnny sometime. Some day.

He couldn’t now, though, it was all too near, sitting right at the tip of his nose, dancing in bloodmist and hollow screams and mortar shells. So he shook his head, and nestled a little further into the safety of his partner.

“Is there… is there anything else I can do?” Because of course Johnny had no idea how much he was already doing to settle the cries that were trying to claw their way up Roy’s throat, to chase away the vile and the haunted and the helpless that traipsed beneath his eyelids.

“J-Just…” Roy’s voice was dragging against gravel and it was all he could do to get anything out at all. “Just talk to me, Johnny?” It was a plea, and he didn’t even care. He needed the daylight and he had no idea how to get there. He needed an anchor, something to hold him there at the station and nothing was more sure than Johnny’s voice. 

“Okay, Pally.” Johnny’s arm squeezed him slightly and again Roy’s insides flashed with a flood of gratitude that he knew he’d never be able to voice in any way that came close to how much it all meant.

There was a moment of quiet, as if Johnny didn’t know where to begin, and that in itself would have been funny to Roy, would have been maddeningly hilarious, if the screams weren’t threatening to take over the silence in the back of his mind.

“I’m sorry you were over there, Roy,” Johnny whispered finally, his voice so full Roy knew he meant it. “I guess… I guess I got lucky. I always wonder if they chose from the white boys first.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Roy, you just said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

If Roy could have forced himself to talk more, he would have told his friend not to worry about it. But he couldn’t, so he didn’t, and Johnny probably did worry.

“Uh, ‘kay. Remember the lion? ‘Course you do. Man that was wild, wasn’t it? There was a coupla times I thought I was as good as dinner. But it was real exciting, ya know? I kinda like that about the job. I mean, I don’t wanna die or nothing. I just like… I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m just an adrenaline junkie or somethin’.”

Roy knew it was more than that. He knew his partner liked the thrill, sure, but he also liked helping others. He liked making a difference. He’d take on any and all danger if it meant someone else didn’t have to. Roy tried to say it loudly in his mind, to project it so that maybe Johnny’d hear it and it was dumb, but it helped keep everything else away.

“I could call in and get you a sedative, ya know. I mean, that would mean dragging you to Rampart, and I didn’t think you’d want to go to Rampart…” Johnny trailed off for a moment. “But maybe you’d feel better.”

Johnny paused as if waiting for an answer. “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Roy couldn’t help but give a soft snort, and he could practically feel Johnny smiling behind him.

Then Johnny sighed, and Roy could feel his partner’s forehead settle against the back of his head. “Don’t worry about the horses, ya know. I’m sorry I wouldn’t leave ya alone. I just get so – so excited sometimes, ya know? I can’t even explain it.” A pause. “I can’t even control it, really. Sometimes. I dunno.”

Johnny shifted, as if uncomfortable, but Roy had a feeling he was just uncomfortable with his own words. 

“Baseball’s good too, though, ya know. Lots of stats n’stuff. You could have a lot of fun tryin’ to guess what’ll happen. I won’t even bother you about it. Maybe we can talk about it though? I like baseball a lot.”

There was something almost childlike and hopeful in that question, something that gutted Roy a little, something he’d have to consider in the light of day when he had more of the pieces of himself put together.

“Ya know what Dixie said to me the other day? She told me that for some reason, and they don’t know why, for some reason there’s been like a lot of snipers this year. More than usual. She said – geez. I did it again, I’m sorry Roy.”

Johnny sighed and was quiet for a moment before continuing. “I guess I’m not so good at this. Uh, okay. Remember when Brackett and I didn’t get along? Seems kinda funny now. I mean, we still butt heads, I know you think I’m stubborn, I’m not stubborn Roy, I just know what I know, but you know, I kinda like Brackett. Like a lot. I just respect the hell outta that guy, you know?

“Uh… let’s see… huh. Oh, I know. I’ve been meaning to tell you… don’t tell the kids, but, um, I accidentally killed that plant they got me for Christmas. I mean, not on purpose of course, but, I just can’t figure out the whole watering thing. You’re the one with the green thumb, Roy. I thought I was givin' it enough, but it was dyin’, and then I gave it more, and then it was dyin’ some more, and I dunno. I think it’s gone now.

But yeah, don’t tell them. I might just buy another one if they ever come over. They’re pretty great, your kids. As far as kids go and all. I never really, I mean, I know Jo thinks I should settle down and have some, maybe you do too, but I’m not so sure it’s for me, ya know? I dunno. Maybe… maybe I should tell you…”

Johnny cleared his throat then, and trailed off, and was quiet, and Roy wondered a little about his last words, but he also felt a little like he was disconnected, like paying attention was getting harder and harder. But still, he held on to the words, held on to Johnny’s voice like it was the only thing left.

“Maybe we should go camping sometime soon, there’s this spot I wanna check out…”

“I was reading up on the transmission for the old engine…”

“Did you know that the new Sears building in Chicago is the tallest building…”

“Ya know, if I could go anywhere in the world, it’d probably be Hawaii. I know it’s not that far, but…”

Roy wasn’t sure when it was that he drifted off to Johnny’s gentle prattle. He didn’t remember much of what was said at all. All he knew was that at some point he began to feel himself melt, melt into the warmth, into the safety, into the words that meant nothing and meant absolutely everything all at once.

* * *

When the wakeup tones pulled Roy from his slumber, he felt heavy and exhausted, but he also felt more whole than he had the night before. He blinked blearily to see Johnny climb out of the bunk across from him. At some point he must have slipped back after Roy had fallen asleep.

Roy flushed with a sea of emotions, not the least of which was shame. But Johnny didn’t say anything or give him any indication that last night had happened. Instead, he gave him a smile, clapped him on the shoulder and left the dorm in search of coffee. 

Roy sat on his bed and swallowed, wondering if he should explain, if he should apologize, if he should pretend it didn’t happen. When he finally got his nerve together, he pulled on his bunkers and went to the kitchen.

Johnny was up against the counter, sipping coffee out of a blue mug in one hand, and holding a second full cup in the other. Roy took it gratefully.

They leaned there side-by-side, watching the guys clamber into wakefulness in the usual ways – Chet with too much energy and sass, Marco squinting blearily and groaning at Chet’s jokes, Mike too awake and watching amusedly, and Cap grumbling and glaring into his coffee but trying not to let it show.

Roy stole a sideways glance at his partner. Johnny had dark smudges under his eyes, which lobbed a pang of guilt into Roy’s chest, but he seemed alert, seemed unchanged. 

“Um, Johnny,” Roy began quietly, thankful for the cover of the morning bustle, “I just wanted to… thanks.”

“For what?” Johnny looked over at him with a smile. It wasn’t his usual crooked grin, the one that gleamed to match his eyes when he was teasing or flirting or just enjoying life. It was an even smile, that showed his dimples, one that was rare and precious and made Roy feel kinda alright. Johnny pushed off the counter, clapped him on the shoulder again and joined the rest of the crew at the table. 

Roy took a deep breath, sighing with relief and swelling with the feeling that maybe, despite everything he’d been through, he was the luckiest guy on earth, and set himself down right next to his best friend.


End file.
